Monster
by Teresa Martin
Summary: Set from "Broken" until the ending of "Child of the Moon." What brought Belle from pledging to stay with a monster to deciding to leave him for being one. This is my take on what may have happened.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

"Don't you see? That's exactly the reason I have to stay."

Belle smiled angelically into Rumpelstiltskin's bewildered face, her hands on his shoulders as she leaned up and kissed him. There was nothing that he could do except take her by the waist and pull her with him as he sat back on the wheel's stool. Somehow, he set the chipped cup down safely with his other hand as they continued to kiss. He knew it had to stop but it had been so long, and his love too great, that he could not move her away from him. It was several minutes before he finally broke the kisses, and with hands on both sides of her face smoothed back her hair and said gently, "I love you Belle . . . ." She began to reply in kind but he placed a finger on her lips, silencing her. "I do, and I would be with you forever, as you pledged once to me. But think of what I just told you." Pausing he looked her directly in her eyes, "I am a monster, do not doubt me." He touched her cheek, his expression earnest. "I meant what I said when I told you to leave," he said softly.

Belle placed her hand over his, "As did I when I told you I had to stay." She took his hands in both her own. "So let me say again that I love you, and I want to be with you forever."

Rumpelstiltskin sighed almost ruefully, "Very well." His eyes moved to their clasped hands. "I'm not strong enough to offer again, Belle. This is my last warning. Your last chance."

"Good!" she smiled pulling his face up to hers and their lips met again and again as they whispered each other's names and pledged their love over and over.

It was done.

He was a monster.

And she had decided to stay.

Chapter One

Rumpelstiltskin was driving slowly with his left hand while Belle clutched at his right, holding her breath.

It was her first ride in a car and he had to stop often and suddenly to swing around debris. Occasionally Belle's lips tightened at the fear of the obstacles, and perhaps the reminders of his broken promise.

"Almost there, Sweetheart. Storybrooke's a little town. Just a minute or two." She nodded silently, her hand still crushing his.

Finally Belle giggled shakily, "It is rather silly being so frightened."

"Every first time there is a little fear." His mouth clamped shut. Did he say that aloud? Luckily Belle did not catch his unintended double entendre. Of course nothing was going to 'happen' at his home, not with everything he needed to do. Not with his Belle. He let out a slow breath.

After what seemed an age, they arrived at his home. Rumpelstiltskin led her into the house.

Belle looked left and right at the clutter. "Still the collector?"

"Old habits die hard," he replied. She smiled, and stood expectantly as though waiting to see where she needed to go.

He helped her. "Would you like something to eat?"

"No, thank you," Belle answered. "It's been quite the day. All I want is to go to bed."

"Yes," he said gruffly, and led her upstairs to the room he'd always considered hers. When he had arrived after the curse, this room had a full ladies' wardrobe, as though it had been waiting for her. It even had Belle's colors, rose, gold, blue . . . and the clothes while a little . . . short, suited her in a strange way. Her work dress in the Enchanted Forest had also been rather short and girlish despite her age. However, he thought with a little bit of dismay, her clothes did give her the appearance of a woman younger than her thirty years and would not help with inevitable accusations of 'cradle robbing.' Not that it would be an issue in Storybrooke. He planned to be gone with her by the next evening, after finishing up what her unexpected appearance had put on hold.

"You'll find everything you need," he gestured to the wardrobe and drawers. Pointed to the left. "Bath shower, shampoo, nightclothes. Do you need help operating the shower?"

Belle shook her head, blushed a little.

"Just ask if you need," Rumpelstiltskin assured her, "I'll be next door." Belle nodded quickly. He acknowledged her movement, more curt than he intended. He did not trust his voice and went to his own room thinking that his shower would be cold.

Finished ready for bed, he debated whether to go say goodnight, but was spared when he heard her call to him. He was there in seconds, knocking discreetly. "Belle, may I come in?"

"Yes, please." He walked in and did not see her.

Her head popped out of the bathroom door. "In here!" Rumpelstiltskin walked to where she stood in a stunning off-white . . . slip? Nightdress? As she was toweling her hair, he swallowed. She turned to him unfazed. "I was trying to figure this out," she gestured to the hairdryer as he entered. "Funny world," Belle commented. "The nightdress is more modest than the dress I was wearing!" Rumpelstiltskin swallowed again. It did, he supposed, cover more, but it was still different. But then women often did not know the effect something like that could have on a man. The pair had always been more like friends in many ways. So comfortable with each other. And she was more sheltered than her bold demeanor implied. Had she known how a man viewed the nightdress, she would most certainly be wearing a robe.

Willing himself to focus on the task at hand, Rumpelstiltskin sat her down on a rose-cushioned chair. "Allow me," he slowly began moving the brush, then stopped. "There's a bottle of detangler I need." Belle grabbed the bottle and handed it back behind her.

Rumpelstiltskin then sprayed, brushing her hair. Belle sighed, letting her head dip to the side; he gently moved it back upright. It was intimate, bonding. She sighed again and he stopped to lay his hand on her shoulder. A delicate, feminine hand covered his as he leaned down to kiss her hair, breathing in her scent.

Abruptly, he grabbed the hair dryer and turned it on. As he dried Belle's hair, he discreetly checked her back, her arms. There were no signs of scourging. Another lie of Regina's. He counted to ten, as Belle giggled, no doubt at the new sensation of having a hairdryer blow over her. He turned it off.

"Thank you," Belle said as she rose, kissing him and giving him a hug. He put his hands on her shoulders.

"Bed." With a small push Rumpelstiltskin turned her into the sitting area. "Would you like me to light a fire?"

"No, " she smiled. "Maybe tomorrow night. This room is perfect."

"Good!" he kissed her forehead, "Goodnight."

As he began to move away, Belle would not let go of his hand.

"What is it?" he peered at her, concerned.

Belle bit her lower lip. "Could you. . ." She swallowed. "Maybe, stay with me," she said the last part quickly. "Just awhile," she clarified, but still blushed. "We could pull a chair by the bed."

"Whatever you want, Belle," he replied. She smiled nervously and climbed under the ample covers. He took the chair and sat down, taking her hand and smoothing her hair with his other. "Better?"

She nodded, "Just didn't want to be alone," she murmured. "Never thought that I would ever again be sleeping in a bed, with you by my side."

"Me neither." Rumpelstiltskin looked down.

Belle leaned her head back on the pillow, and then turned her head. Her eyes met his. She looked frightened. Blinked, and whispered "I shouldn't be thinking about it."

That ended the last of his self-control. "Oh Belle!" he burst out and the next moment did what he'd been wanting to do for the past hour: climbed into bed and had her in his arms. With a small cry she lifted her head so that he could kiss her, kiss her as he held her close, held her, kissed her, then . . .then, by some miracle they slowed and stopped, she laying her head on his shoulder, his arms around her, as her breathing slowly fell into a soft rhythm.

Rumpelstiltskin could never have imagined as late as this morning that he would be here, finally keeping his darling safe in his home, in his arms.

He wrapped his arms tighter around her.

For the first time since he lost Baelfire, he had what he wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

There was a skin crawling scream. Rumpelstiltskin shot up, instinctively reaching for his gun and cursing that he did not have it nearby. He looked around before realizing the sound had come from beside him.

Belle. Lying beside him.

And shrieking.

"Belle," He took her arms, she was still shrieking, "Belle!" he shouted. She snapped as to reason, and started to cry.

"Stop," she sobbed. Then shook. "It's so dark." Her voice was lower in pitch than he'd ever heard it.

He reached over for the light quickly, knocked it down, set it aright, switched it on. A lamp that looked like a candle.

"Here, love. Here's the light."

He blinked with the sudden glare, but was able to reach out and clutch her to his breast. She was weeping now in keening sobs.

"What is it, love?"

Belle shook her head, "I don't know. I don't know!"

_Night terrors_, Rumpelstilskin thought. He'd had his share of them over the years and plenty of time to do research on them.

"Shhhhh," he cradled her. "It's a moment, just a moment."

He let her cry, smoothing her hair, trying not to imagine all the acts of revenge he wanted to do against Regina. He had nearly lost Belle again earlier that evening because he tried to kill the witch. That mistake would not be made again. He sighed. Belle would always get what she wanted from him.

But he had to do something.

He put his hand on her head and started to bring calming magic.

Her head whipped to his, "What are you doing?'

"Just something to help you."

"Not magic," she protested. "We agreed to no more magic!"

That caused Rumpelstiltskin to frown. When did they agree to that?

Belle went on, "Everything's different now," she was still shaking. "We're going to change, together."

Change. He thought back to her shining face in the shop, her pledge, and his heart sank. She'd meant that as a condition to her staying.

She expected him to change.

Rumpelstiltskin barely had time to register this, when she began shaking again. He pulled the covers over her, making a soft humming sound of comfort.

It could wait. Wait until they were gone. Now was not the time to talk with her about it.

Not when she was shaking in his arms.

Not now.

"Just go to sleep, sweetheart."

Not now.

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Rumpelstiltskin woke up with the Sun. He looked to the left and saw Belle, her hair spread out, seeming to glow in the faux candlelight coming from the nightstand.

He sat up slowly, not wishing to wake her, torn between spending the day with her in his arms, or closing the shop, bringing his last needed items for the trip. He planned to be in Boston by evening.

Taking a piece of her hair, he twirled it, leaned down, and kissed her cheek.

Maybe that was the best way to begin.

Her head turned and she blinked, smiled. Did his heart just stop? She sidled over and kissed his lips.

"Ah, then," Belle whispered. "It wasn't all a dream."

Rumpelstiltskin smiled, "Not the best parts." He took her in his arms. "I promised to protect you. Do you feel safe?"

"Oh yes," she tightened her arms and snuggled closer, burrowing under the covers.

"We do have to get up eventually," he reminded her.

"Why?"

"Breakfast for a start . . . . "

"Mmmm, breakfast . . .," Belle murmured.

Now to get it out quickly. "And then I need a quick trip to the shop."

She smiled lazily her eyes closed, "Can't you take the day off?"

"I plan a lot of days off." That made Belle frown, "A trip, dearie," he clarified, "you and me, seeing the world!"

"But I just got here," Belle protested.

Rumpelstiltskin touched her nose playfully, "All the better to celebrate."

"But I would like . . ." she bit her lower lip.

"Like what?" he asked.

Her tone changed as she looked steadily at him. "My father, Rumple. Do you know where he is?"

Rumpelstiltskin's breath caught for a second, and then he said without missing a beat, "No." That was true. Moe French could be anywhere right now.

At this exact moment.

"I want to find him," Belle told him.

"We will!" he smiled. "And still go on our trip." Now his love truly looked confused. He explained, "This world has technology that we could only dream of in our world. I'll show you at breakfast."

Belle began to ask another question, and so to distract, Rumpelstiltskin began to kiss her. Yet she still persisted, "But. . .," kiss, "but what . . .," kiss, "what can …," kiss, "you show me," longer kiss, "Stop it!"

Rumpelstiltskin grinned wickedly, "You want me to stop?"

"No, I just . . . ," she pushed him away as he went in for another, "just let a woman get her sentence out." He kissed her quickly. "Rumple!"

"I let you get a sentence out!"

She playfully pulled his hand away from the back of her head and trapped it. "What can you show me at breakfast that will make it ok for us to go away and still search my father?"

"Very well," he conceded. "It's called an iPhone."

"A what?"

"You see, I have to show you." He started kissing her again.

Belle gave in. "It can wait till breakfast," she sighed as she let him fully take her into her arms.

When they took a break from kissing, she laid her head on his shoulder. He hadn't lied to her. As they looked for Bae, anyone could stay in touch with them. If they had his number.

Belle's stomach interrupted his thoughts.

She looked at him sheepishly, "I am hungry,"

Rumpelstiltskin sighed, "Very well." He swung out of bed and limped to the restroom, producing a large terry-cloth robe, wrapping her in it quickly so that he could not see the nightie. It was one thing to kiss, another to be tortured. Belle wrapped it around herself, giggling and shaking herself into it.

"Too cute!" He hugged her.

"Food!" she playfully pushed him away.

"Food," he agreed and they went downstairs

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Rumpelstiltskin was tucking his silken handkerchief into his breast pocket when he saw in the mirror that Belle had entered his room.

"Here it is," she held up a sheet of paper. It was a simple drawing of her father, with Gold's cell number under it.

Rumpelstiltskin took it from her. "We'll see what success we get," he said with a clear conscience and walked with her into the hallway picking up his briefcase. "If you need me, Belle, for anything at all, just call my number as we practiced." He touched her chin. "And do not leave under any circumstances."

Her eyes were a little wide. "You really think it could be that bad?"

"People panic," he shrugged. "Don't worry, love. All will be well. Get some rest." Her face fell. The night terrors. He glanced over her quickly, assessing. How much psychological damage did she have? Dammit he wasn't a shrink, and the one he knew was quite busy, no doubt. For another time. Tonight. He put his "reassuring" look on his face. "Or do something else. Whatever you like. And call. Every five minutes, if you need to. I'll answer."

That made Belle smile.

He kissed her on the cheek. "I won't be long."

She nodded. "I'll be ready when you return."

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As Rumpelstiltskin rode into town, he saw the chaos. Ignored it. And . . . oh , before he forgot. He had spotted a trash can. Getting out quickly, he tore Belle's flyer in two and tossed it in. Which reminded him. . . He drove straight to Game of Thorns. Empty, of course. He grabbed a dozen roses and a vase. Left $200 cash by the register. Overpaid. There! That would make up for it.

Then he drove to his shop, made a quick call to Belle to make sure all was well. She assured him it was, and then he heard the bell above the door ring.

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Rumpelstiltskin wasn't sure how many hours had passed.

He had turned off his iPhone. He knew Belle kept calling, was probably desperate now, even hysterical. But that was so far back in his mind now it could barely register.

He was standing by the line marking the boundary of Storybrooke. So tempting. Just one step and it all would be over. It wasn't suicide . . . he would still be alive. He would still be Mr. Gold. Maybe he'd even be a better person. He closed his eyes and for a split second thought about the relief of forgetting everything, even his son. He loved Baelfire, but that love had meant three-hundred years of hating himself.

It could all be gone with just one little step.

One step.

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Rumpelstiltskin limped up to his front door. How angry would Belle be at him for not answering his phone? Or maybe she'd be gone having decided to brave the town.

He reached for the doorknob, but it swung open and he was lost in a blur of long hair and arms half-strangling him. He clutched at her almost as hard and she pulled at his hair.

"Why the hell didn't you answer me!" Belle shook him, hot tears of anger and relief falling down her cheeks.

"I am so sorry, Belle. I foolishly let the battery die out." Ok, his first outright lie. But a battery was hardly a grave matter. He broke the embrace taking her hands. "Are you alright? Were you afraid?"

"More afraid for you," she answered, still sounding like she wanted to kill him. "I thought something had happened."

He chuckled, "Belle, do you really think anything could happen to me?"

"I . . . I didn't know." She clenched her teeth. "That's it. I just don't know here!"

He stroked her cheek, "I know. I'm sorry," he repeated and embraced her again, kissing the crown of her head.

"Don't be, it wasn't your fault."

Now that made him feel guilty. But what was done was done.

"What is it?" Her face was tilted up to his.

He feigned surprise, "What's what?" Belle's eyebrow rose. "There was some very bad news," he admitted. "We can't leave Storybrooke. Ever."

"What!" she exclaimed and peered into his face.

"We can't leave," Rumpelstiltskin shrugged, trying to not look as disappointed as he was. "Let me explain," he said as he led her to a nearby couch.

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He had cooked a gourmet meal which Belle ate with relish. Of course. She had been deprived for twenty-eight years. His lips tightened. A sensitive subject. Damn! He made a mental note to call Dr. Hopper, no matter how much it hurt his pride.

"Talk to me."

"Sorry?" Rumpelstiltskin started.

Belle stared him down. "There's more to what you've told me. Something has upset you. Truly upset you."

She could always read him. He put an extra effort into masking his visage. "There's nothing Belle."

Belle still stared. "We share everything," she stated.

He couldn't help a laugh, "Belle, we've never shared anything."

"Don't laugh at me!" Her voice lowered.

"I'm not, not at you, but . . ." He stopped at her expression.

Her look was deadly. Yet then she softened and moved to him kneeling by his chair, taking his hands, repeating what she'd said earlier. "Let's change together."

Change again. She really believed that was something he wanted to do. Because . . . ah, he saw it now. She wanted it to be true. Damn all those female books!

This was a dilemma.

He looked at her large and . . . so young-looking, naïve eyes. He couldn't inform her to the contrary, but then, the truth? He would certainly lose her.

"Talk," she pressed.

Good gods! He blinked, ready to enlighten her, but looking into those eyes again stopped him. He could not.

What did it really matter anyways?

Fine! Let her think it, if it comforted her. He had no energy left to argue. No energy left for anything.

He smiled and kissed her on the cheek.

"Last night you said you wanted a fire."

Belle held his hand as they walked into her room. "You really don't have to, Rumple," she began.

"Hush!" he ordered. "I will give you whatever you want."

As he built the fire to a cozy roar, he heard her voice, "Truly?"

He turned. "Yes, Belle."

"Then tell me what is upsetting you!"

He gave a rueful laugh, "Why isn't learning that I am stuck here enough to be a bit of a worry?"

"Because I know you. I know there's more." And she fixed that knowing stare on him. Damn, he really couldn't hide it could he? "Please . . .," she pleaded.

"Please," Rumpelstiltskin kept the mask, "drink our wine and celebrate our reunion."

Belle's eyes narrowed. She was annoyed. Brilliant. Then she tried to catch his eyes. He averted them.

Now she was getting angry. "I know that something happened," she insisted.

"Well, being trapped here is a lot to get upset about!"

"And that's all it is?"

"Wouldn't that upset you?" He wasn't lying.

"I have a right to know because . . ." Belle stopped.

He then was the one to press. "Because?"

She sighed, "It's just when you get upset . . ." She bit her lip and wouldn't look at him, "it's not always a good thing."

"I won't, Belle," he reassured her. "I'm done with revenge on Regina."

"So no magic?"

"No revenge," Rumpelstiltskin answered softly.

"Rumple . . ."

"Belle, what is it you want!" His voice was louder than he'd intended.

She was unfazed and gave him the long stare again. Thankfully, she blinked first. Crisis averted, but not avoided.

"Here," he said as he went to the bed to bring pillows to her on the couch. "So you're comfortable as you enjoy the fire."

"As **we** enjoy the fire," Belle emphasized. It was over for now.

"Of course, love." As she leaned back into the pillows, he sat behind and beside her, his arm about her, as they watched the fire. For hours it seemed.

They must have spent more than an hour like this, for the fire had died down considerably when Belle scooted up on the pillows and kissed him. Rumpelstiltskin kissed her back, but far less passionately than that morning. She pulled him closer and he responded by finishing it, and then kissing her cheek. He felt rather than saw her confusion, but she didn't ask why he moved away from her, cooling things. He knew. But then he saw her expression: a mixture of hurt and embarrassment. So he kissed her on the lips, to let her know he still wanted her.

That couldn't be the end however.

Not when he loved her the way he did.

He found his lips slipping to her forehead. She made a little sound. He exhaled. Kissed her cheek, leaned his head on her shoulder. She embraced him as his head dipped lower, not for desire, but to go deeper into the embrace, a non-sexual, intimate touch. His head lay on her heart as she leaned back against the pillows. She stroked his head, his hands about her waist.

And then it happened. A moment more magical than anything he'd experienced.

Potent, electric, unique.

Tears. They came up through his eyes, and poured down his cheek onto her breast.

"What is it?" She whispered, sorrowful. "Oh, Rumple, tell me what's wrong!"

"There's nothing wrong, Belle." He knew then what it was he felt, and grasped her more tightly, breathing in everything that was her.

Belle, his Belle.

And out it came, "I'm happy," he said. "I'm happy."

He felt her chest heave with a sob as she and moved her hand down to his face. He grabbed that sweet limb and kissed it, laying it on his wet cheek, his hand over hers as he continued to weep.

Was this Heaven? He felt her heart beating beneath his cheek. Maybe not, but it was as close as he would ever get.

Just stay. Stay here.

Stay.

"I'm happy."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Coward.

She had called him a coward.

Her bedroom door slammed.

Brilliant. Just brilliant.

Rumpelstiltskin boiled the kettle. He could understand why she was upset. Belle had asked him more than once if something was wrong, and he had been emphatic to the contrary.

But to call him a coward?

It was what she had said to him when he sent her away from his castle, and she'd turned it on him by leaving him. Surely she knew that.

But perhaps she had spoken to hurt without thinking it through. He had done it often enough and she had forgiven him. He could, would always, forgive her. First the girl needed something to eat. Maybe then she'd be less cranky and ready for a frank talk about what their relationship was, and what she'd agreed to when she came back to him.

He poured a cup of tea, finished it. That was long enough.

He went upstairs and called for her to have something to eat, trying to be nonchalant, but couldn't stop himself from sounding exasperated.

But she was gone.

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Rumpelstiltskin drove home. It was already dark and cold. He climbed the steps, unlocked the door, limped straight up to her room, and walked to the window. Icy air was blowing in. He closed it, but found himself staying, staring out the window.

He let out a low breath. Finally. It was over. Almost a relief came over him. He saw it all so clearly now. Three times telling her to go away, even four or five would never have made her leave. He knew now that his mistake was that **he** had told her to go. She was obsessed with controlling her destiny. It made sense that she would only accept a break-up when she was the one who did it. And she did not want to see him again. She just had to be the one to say it. He should have seen this. So much pain could have been avoided.

This freed him, completely freed him to be who he needed to be, return to the Monster who would do anything to get his son back. Hours of freedom to work spells, curses. Oddly freeing.

But gods he wanted her.

Rumpelstiltskin moved from the window and looked toward the unmade bed.

Free.

But never had freedom hurt so much.

Why did she not choose mercy that night in the pawn shop and not come back, not given him hope again? Losing her would have hurt, but not like this. Not after what they'd shared in the last three days.

This was ridiculous. He shook his head, snapping himself out of it. Practical. He needed to strip the bed, remake it, clean things up.

He took the comforter off and had reached for the sheet when he saw it.

That little nightie of hers, the one that drove him mad, but which she wore with such innocence. Rumpelstiltskin picked it up, running his hands over it. This was her: innocent, sensual, silky . . . beautiful. He fancied he could smell her scent on it, as he had when he lay on her heart. Holding it to his cheek caused the tears to finally come. He buried his face in the piece of silk and wept.

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It was dark when he allowed it to stop.

This was the end of it. No more. No more mooning over a nightie or a chipped cup.

Rumpelstiltskin got up from the bed, holding the gown soaked with his tears, and went to his living room on the first floor. He snapped his fingers and there was a roaring fire. Tossing the nightie into the flames, he watched it smolder and melt, an unpleasant smell coming from the ruined fabric.

One more item.

Belle had placed the chipped cup back in his special cabinet the night she returned to him.

But he couldn't do it.

He would just be broken into bits then.

The cup returned to the cabinet.

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The fire was still roaring as he sat in his favorite armchair, having a Talisker, neat.

He knew he should be getting to work in the basement, but not tonight.

A beep was heard on his cell phone. A text. He looked it over, typed in a quick reply, and then turned on all the lights, finishing his scotch in one gulp. In a few minutes he heard the car pull to a stop and steps leading to the porch. He allowed her to ring the bell, and then opened the door.

Red stood there.

"Please, come in." Rumpelstiltskin opened the door wide. Red slowly walked in to the foyer looking wary. She was holding two suitcases.

"Let me show you." He felt both Red's curiosity as well as caution at being inside the Monster's lair. He reached Belle's room. "Take whatever you think she needs."

"I'm not sure . . ." Red began.

"Anything she wants is hers."

Red nodded and went about emptying drawers, clothes, shoes into the cases. As she closed them, Rumpelstiltskin added, "She ordered some things online. I'll reroute them to Granny's address."

"Thank you," Red peered at him. Dammit, was it on his face? He'd expected Red to be a little more huffy and self-righteous, but she was strangely subdued. No matter. He wasn't going to put on a show for her.

He helped her put the suitcases in the trunk, then held out a wad of cash. "For anything Belle needs."

Red shook her head.

"There is no price," Rumpelstiltskin told her. She still stayed quiet. "There is no price with those I Io- ." he stopped. Dammit, don't let your voice break. "For her. And you know that I never lie."

"She won't take it," Red finally spoke.

"Then you take it," Rumpelstiltskin insisted. "Use it to take her out, have some fun. Be with people her own age." Now he turned his head. Stop talking. Now.

The girl was looking at him strangely, but took the money. "Thank you," she said again. As she opened the car door, Rumpelstiltskin asked in a low voice, despite himself. "Is she alright?"

Red raised her chin, "She will be."

Rumpelstiltskin watched as she drove away, then slowly walked back to the empty house and into his room. Straight to the dresser. A gentleman would not do this, but he was no gentleman. He took out the mirror, looked into it and said, "Show me Belle."

Immediately a small bedroom appeared. Belle was curled in a fetal position on the bed. He watched her for several minutes, unable to stop his own tears from falling down his cheeks. Presently Red came in.

Belle mumbled, "Did he let you . . .?"

"Yes," Red said soothing. "He let me take anything you needed."

Belle replied, "I should have known he would." Then she lay back down and started crying again.

Red looked at her with pity, "It will stop hurting you know, eventually. We've all, had . . . this."

"But how was he?" Belle asked, her voice muffled by the pillow.

Red hesitated. "Different."

"He wasn't . . . ," Belle sat up, eyes puffy and red. "He didn't seem like he would . . . I'm worried for him, Red."

"I don't think you need to be," Red replied slowly. "He was . . . stable. That's what you were worried about?"

Belle nodded, blowing her nose into what must have been a million tissues. Several used ones were scattered about. She turned her head, looked at her new friend and saw that Red had something to say.

"It's not my business . . ." Red began.

"What?" Belle sat upright.

"I think he really loves you," Red sighed.

Belle burst into more tears, "Of course he does. You didn't know that?" And then she buried her head back into the pillows.

Red patted her on the shoulder. "I'm sorry. I had assumed . . . Never mind ," she stopped as Belle shook her head.

"Don't feel badly. I know that's what everyone thinks." Belle grabbed another tissue.

Red seemed a little guilty. "Just cry it out." She handed her a fresh box of tissues. "It will get better, I promise. Just cry it out."

Rumpelstiltskin smashed the mirror. Damn that was stupid. He might need it later. But on second thought, it was a good thing. He would be doing this every night if he could. Now that fix was taken away.

And for the better. Red was right. Belle's pain would fade. She was young.

First things first. He went to the kitchen to get the broom to clean the mess, but instead found himself walking up the stairs, up to third floor and into his library. Belle's book still lay open, her place carefully marked. He would need to send that over, too. She would want to know how the book ended.

He touched the cover. She did love her books.

Then Rumpelstiltskin knew exactly what to do. Like everything else in Storybrooke, he owned it and knew where the key was.

Yes, that would do.

Get the key, have some workers fix up the apartment with the best furniture and appliances.

Then she really would be independent. Not living in a Bed and Breakfast with Red and Granny hovering like mothers hens. He dangled the key in his hand. Her ticket to being completely in control of her destiny, getting what she always wanted.

And he always had given her what she wanted.

The debt would then be entirely paid. He will have given her everything she asked of him.

No. There was one more thing.

He gave a small laugh. Yes, that would really be his final gift to her.

Rumpelstiltskin set the key down. Could he do it? Tell her what she wanted to know, bring about an end to any hope of reconciliation, any fantasy of reunion?

Of course he must. Break the tie completely, keeping her away from him forever. Because he was a monster, and she could not ever come back to him. It was best for her, but most of all . . . . He shook his head laughing. This was an unfamiliar feeling. He could barely even think it. Foreign.

He would do it because it was the right thing to do.

He continued laughing, but it was not out of mirth. Rumpelstiltskin was about to do the right thing, and in doing so extinguish even that last light, the last hope that she would ever forgive him.

The right thing to do.

And lose her forever.

He laughed again. Of course, what else could he expect?

Doing the right thing is never rewarded.


	4. Chapter 4

Epilogue

Rumpelstiltskin drove slowly down the street. There was something of a gathering at Granny's.

Ruby must have lived to see another full moon.

Looked like all the fuss with King George was over. How very tiresome. All those people, so easily led into frenzy by a few pedantic pontifications. Soon they would unmagically follow the direction of another charismatic wind.

But he still drove by, gazing in. No sign of her. His head turned to the other direction as he steered toward the library. All lights on. She was still up. Just long enough to make certain she was well. That was all. He limped to the door. Open. Stepping in, at first did not see anybody as his eyes adjusted to the light. Then he heard her voice. Frightened. No, terrified.

"Ruby? David? Who's there? Please . . ."

"Belle!" He moved as though a panther striking. She was chained up. Like an animal. With a movement of the wrist, magic removed the cuffs.

"Rumple!" She gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"Who?" he snarled into her face, ignoring her question. "Who did this to you?"

Belle shook her head, eyes squinting, "What?"

"Dammit, who chained you up? Was it George?" He turned from her and stalked towards the door.

"No! Oh gods, Rumple, stop!"

He ignored her.

"It was Ruby!" she desperately called out.

That halted him. "Ruby?" Unbelievable. Her friend? The one who he trusted to look after her. "What kind of sick, sorry thing is she?" Rumpelstiltskin whispered.

"She did it to protect me," Belle explained.

"To protect you." He spat each word.

"She didn't want me to get hurt," Belle defended.

"So she chained you up?" Rumpelstiltskin's voice rose. "Does she know what happened to you? With Regina?" He took a step towards her. "Does she know?"

"Yes!"

"And she still. . ." He was growling now.

"Oh gods, Rumpelstiltskin," Belle pleaded, "don't hurt her. "

"Your friend?" He asked sarcastically.

Belle met his glare. "Let me deal with that. It's my conversation to have with her, not yours."

"Oh, I'm planning more than a conversation!" he retorted.

"No!"

He turned to leave. "Rumple!" Belle grabbed him by both arms, spinning him around. She was the only one who could do that and live. He looked down at her hands, she abruptly let go.

Belle began to speak; he waved a hand in front of him, dismissal, closing his eyes. Sighed. "I shouldn't have come," he muttered. Back to the car. Mistake. Always a mistake.

"Yes, you should have," her voice slowed and lowered. "You wanted to be sure I was safe. There's nothing wrong with that."

"No, I suppose not," Rumpelstiltskin slightly bowed his head. "Good night."

"Why haven't you been answering my calls?" She blurted out.

Rumpelstiltskin stopped again. "Oh Belle . . . ." He was so weary.

"I even texted," Belle continued. "Ruby taught me."

He attempted humor, trying to change the direction of the conversation. He could do this. "Glad she hasn't taught you this world's anorexia epidemic," he gestured to her healthy figure.

That made Belle smile. "She tried to warn me about gaining weight." She grinned, but her lips trembled. "I told her to shove off!"

"That's my . . ." He turned his eyes away, looked to the side.

Leave, leave now.

Belle took advantage of the opening, taking a step toward him. "We need to talk," she said gently. "Why haven't I been able to reach you?"

"I got a new phone. No roaming fees," Rumpelstiltskin snipped, his voice rising in pitch, mad at himself for allowing her to take control of the conversation.

She just looked at him.

"I've been busy, Belle," he looked down. "On a project with which you are well familiar."

She bit her lip. Dammit, she was trying not to cry. Her eyes started to shine.

"But surely, you could spare a half hour? I could show you my apartment." Belle gestured to the back. "We could cook a dinner, have some wine, just as we used . . ."

"Thank you," Rumpelstiltskin cut in, "busy. So much to do."

Go.

He moved to the door.

"We could talk, talk about this," Belle continued, pleading. "I'll listen, too. I see that I needed to do that, not just you." She started following him.

He kept walking. Screaming inside. Tempted, so tempted to turn around, fall on his knees even, beg for mercy, beg her to take him back, to start over, start everything over. . .

"Rumple . . ." She was right behind him.

He forced himself forward, begging the gods he didn't believe in to let him go back to the castle, back in time and never allow her to leave him.

She kept after him, out the door. "Please, wait!"

_No one could ever love me. . . _

Except she did.

"Dammit, Rumpelstiltskin!"

_He was lying in her arms, head on her heart. Tears falling onto her breast, telling her he was happy._

He got into his car and pulled away, making a brief error by looking in the review mirror. She was standing still, tears flowing.

He kept driving.

_No one could ever love me!_

But she loved him.

_Milah's heart was in his hands, squeezing the life out of her._

Belle's head was in her hands as she sobbed.

_He was the Beast, the Monster of the Dark Castle and she loved him._

His foot hit the accelerator, speeding to his empty home.

_No one __**should**__ ever love me._

The End


End file.
